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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203570">Hold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang'>Jinmukang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Murder, Buried Alive, Concussions, Corpses, Hospitals, Hugs, Kidnapping, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Trauma, Whumptober 2020, but dont worry damian isnt murdered, no.26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:00:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian wakes up to find he's being buried alive. Of course, the first thing he does is call Dick.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [26]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/gifts">DawnsEternalLight</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For! Matina! I hope you like this. You're an amazing person and im happy ive gotten the opportunity to get to know you, even if im a complete goldfish dummy &lt;3 as promised, damian and hugs :smek:</p><p>and as for everyone else, i hope ya'll enjoy it too :3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damian wakes up to pounding. A pounding head. A pounding body. A pounding thudding of something heavy at an inconsistent rate above him.</p><p>He groans and tries to shift, but he doesn't get anywhere for a number of reasons. For one, his pounding head. For two… wherever he is, it is <em>very </em>cramped. </p><p>He cracks open his eyes to pure darkness. With a groan, he moves his arm around the tight space around him to reach for his head. When his fingers touch the back of his skull, they come away wet. He winces. He rubs the tips of his fingers together and carefully begins to stretch his body to try and figure out… just what kind of situation he's landed himself in. One thing becomes crystal clear rather quickly, even with his massive headache. </p><p>He's in some sort of box: a wooden box at that, laying on his side next to something lumpy. Above him, the pounding sounds which closely resemble the ricochet of marbles bouncing on tile becomes more and more muffled with every beat.</p><p>With a flash of panic, Damian remembers what’s led him to this situation. </p><p>In a fit of adrenalin, he turns to his back and forces himself to ignore the <em>body</em> beside him, slamming his hands against the lid of the <em>coffin </em> as two murderers <em>bury </em> him <em>alive </em>. </p><p>His brain spins with the action, and it's all he can do to press on the coffin lid with his bare hands and knees. There's not enough room to use his feet. </p><p>The lid opens a little, and immediately dirt tries to enter the coffin; some of it lands in his face. He splutters, moves his face, then presses again. </p><p>"LET ME OUT!" He shouts. </p><p>The pounding of dirt slamming down on top of him stops for just a moment. Just a moment long enough for one of his abductors to swear. "<em>He's still alive</em>?!"</p><p><em>"Just keep going, he'll die soon whether he struggles or not</em>-"</p><p>The pounding of shovels dropping dirt down on top of him continues, and Damian's forced to stop pressing on the lid as more and more dirt lands in the small space. </p><p>It's already cramped enough in here, with the dead body wrapped in a moving tarp after all. </p><p>Damian forces himself to keep a steady breath as his vision spins. His head <em>really </em> hurts, especially laying on his back like this. That one guy really got him good. Damian will be feeling that for a long time. </p><p>A long time, that is, if he manages to get out of this alive.</p><p>He reaches into his pockets with one hand and uses the other to cradle his aching skull. With every passing second, the stress of being buried alive is just making the pain more and more intense. Thankfully though, his hands grasp onto his phone. It seems like these murderers really did think they killed him and just plopped him into the same coffin as their previous victim without even bothering to go through his pockets, civilian clothes and all. </p><p>When he turns on his phone, he immediately winces and cringes away from the stabbing light. Squinting through involuntary tears, he reaches up and turns down the brightness… just to find it was already most of the way down. He rubs his eyes with one hand then uses mostly muscle memory to get to the phone app. He presses the number he's most recently talked to because everything is so blurry and he can't find it in himself to try and actually focus on the squiggling letters and numbers. He can't know for sure if the number he's calling isn't a spam number or not… and he wonders briefly if this is what Richard's dyslexia is like. </p><p>He presses the phone to his ear and closes his eyes, trying to calm his breath and <em>maybe </em> calm the pounding in his skull in the process. The dial tone is so <em>loud</em>. He doesn't remember setting it this loud. </p><p>Shockingly though, the phone picks up on the second ring, so he doesn't have to suffer it long. </p><p>He just has to suffer a new kind of loudness when Richard's voice practically screeches through the speakers. </p><p>"<em>Damian?! Where the </em><b><em>hell</em> </b> <b>-</b>"</p><p>Damian releases a small breath of relief as Richard continues to yell at him for… disappearing. That… that's right.. Damian was supposed to call the moment he got… somewhere...</p><p>The sound of dirt falling on top of him is gone. There's no voices. No shoves stabbing the earth. </p><p>Just Richard's… oh yeah. Richard is yelling at him. </p><p>"-<em>amian </em><b><em>anwer</em> </b> <em> me</em>-"</p><p>He sounds frantic. Damian bites his lip and then takes a deep breath, forcing himself to ignore the stabbing pressure still persistently digging into the back of his skull. </p><p>"Richard," he says. Or slurs. Or something in-between. Either way, he doesn't sound as okay as he was hoping he would. Before Richard's shouting could rise an octave because of <em>that</em>, Damian continues. "I'm... in trouble. Please don't shout…"</p><p>And that does the trick. Richard immediately takes a calming breath on his end, and when he speaks his voice is firm, but gentle. </p><p>It still aches in Damian's skull, but at least it's not as bad as before. </p><p>"<em>Dames, what's wrong? Where</em>-"</p><p>"I don't know where… where I am… I'm…" Damian chokes down a grunt as the pain spikes. He clutches the phone so hard in his hands that his knuckle bones must surely be showing white. "C'n you track my phone?"</p><p><em>"We already are</em>," Richard soothes, and Damian let's himself relax ever so slightly. "<em>Can you give anything that can help us </em>?" </p><p>Damian almost shakes his head, but then that would make the pain worse. It would also be pointless because he's talking over the <em>phone</em>.</p><p>"No… I can't…"</p><p>"<em>That's okay, you're doing great. What about the trouble? Are you safe</em>?" </p><p>"I'm..." and it suddenly crashes into Damian that he's just been <em>buried </em> alive. He's trapped multiple feet undergoing in a tight space next to a <em>corpse </em> with blood at the back of his head and the taste of dirt in his mouth. He almost wants to cry. He presses against the lid of the coffin and it doesn't budge. "I've…"</p><p>"<em>Dames</em>?"</p><p>Everything hurts so badly. He can barely whisper. "I'm in a coffin. They buried me alive."</p><p>Richard gasps. As does another voice, somewhere in the background. Damian realizes that Richard had said <em>we </em>. Damian might be on speakerphone right now. Who knows how many members of his family are listening in right now.</p><p>Listening in to Damian being weak. </p><p>He takes a deep, pathetically shaking breath. "Richard?"</p><p>"<em>I'm here, Dami </em> ," Richard replies immediately. "<em>Jesus… I'm here. I just… how are you holding up- wait don't talk too much. You need to preserve your air and- just sit tight. We're zeroing in on your location as we speak. </em>.."</p><p>Damian closes his eyes and breathes in his nose and out his mouth. He thinks of all the training he's had, and how he does—in fact—know how to dig himself out of a grave. The only issue right now though is what's definitely a concussion attacking the back of his head and the body he's still pressed up against. It's a tight fit inside coffins even without added company. If he tries to dig himself out, there won't be anywhere he can shove the dirt, and he will surely suffocate. </p><p><em> Drown </em>in earth. </p><p>Down here forever, like a seed that never grew. Stuck. Planted to die and be forgotten about. A shard of pain spikes in his chest.</p><p>"Richard-" he gasps without meaning to. It's so quiet, but so loud and painful all at the same time. </p><p>"<em>I'm here,</em>" Richard immediately replies. "<em>We're narrowing down your phone signals, Tim and Cass are already heading towards</em>-"</p><p>Damian bites his lip to stop himself from letting out what definitely feels like a coming sob.</p><p><em>"All you need to do is watch your breathing okay? We'll find you. Hey, why don't you try breathing with me? How</em>-"</p><p>"No." Damian snaps before he can stop himself. Richard falls silent and Damian wants to scream. "Talk. Just... Just talk. I'm..."</p><p>Hurting? Aching? Suffering from a concussion? Slowly running out of air? <em>Afraid </em>?</p><p>"Please. Just talk."</p><p>"<em>Okay. Okay, I can do that. No problem, Dami</em>."</p><p>Damian can hear the strained, forced smile in his voice. </p><p>But that's fine, because Richard immediately launches into one of his old stories about his lifelong friends, the original Teen Titans. Damian relaxes his hand pressing the phone against his ear and let's the speaker fall ever so slightly. His hand rests lightly against the corpse… he can feel the roundness of their shoulders and the bulge of a chest. But he forces himself to ignore it all in favor of just... listening to something that isn't cold, unforgiving death. </p><p>However, just breathing and relaxing like this… it seems to do just as much harm as talking, but in a whole new way. </p><p>He's tired. His head really hurts. He's horribly aware of how harder it is to breathe the more time passes. </p><p>But mostly tired. So tired that he doesn't think he can open his eyes again even if he tried. He knows it's bad to fall asleep with a concussion… but right now it's just so tempting. He's sure if he fell asleep now, it will be dreamless. If he falls asleep now, then he'll wake up to the coffin being unburied and him being rescued.</p><p>He almost falls into temptation right then and there, but then he becomes aware of someone shouting his name.</p><p>"Hmm?" He asks, and Richard exhales sharply. </p><p>"<em>You need to stay up with me, Dames</em>."</p><p>"I know…" Damian replies, but he doesn't bother to try and open his eyes. "M Just tired. Head hurts."</p><p>"<em>Your head hurts</em>?"</p><p>Damian nods, then immediately regrets it as the pain flairs. He gasps and tightens his grasp on the phone. Fighting back tears he tries to explain. "Got hit… shovel."</p><p>Richard curses. "<em>I thought you were just going to a friends house… how did this happen? </em>" </p><p>It wasn't a friend's house. It was a classmate's, but it's pretty common for Richard to get excited whenever Damian spends time with children his own age, even if it's just for a English project. </p><p>Damian<em> was </em> going to their house. They only lived a few blocks from the school. But then… something he can't quite recall had him walking towards one of the main roads nearby. There was a… bridge that went over some sort of abandoned parking garage. He went inside, saw… he saw someone… the woman! He saw the woman get killed, and before he could do anything about it the back of his head was smashed in hard enough for him to be barely conscious by the time he hit the ground. </p><p>He wants to explain all of this to Richard. But it's all he can do to keep the phone pressed to his ear and force his eyes to open.</p><p>"M'sorry," he mumbles. Because it's the only thing he can work up the energy to say… especially with the air ever so slowly getting thicker and thicker, causing his head to throb with increasing intensity with every passing breath. He can feel the pulse of his heart in his temples. </p><p>Will he die here? No… no he can't. Richard is looking for him and Timothy and Cassandra are searching the radius of his phone's signal. Surely, Barbara must be the one behind searching for his signal. Father must be as well. They're looking for Damian. He won't die here. </p><p>He refuses to die here. </p><p>”<em>-ey, Damian</em>!" </p><p>Damian blinks, startling as Richard's almost panicked voice reaches his ears once again. "Wh-what?"</p><p>"<em>Dames... I really need you to try and stay awake, okay? Listen to my voice. </em>"</p><p>There's a wobble in his tone. Damian’s put that there. </p><p>He realizes he must have missed something said to him to cause Richard such panic. </p><p>"<em>We're so close to finding you, Dames. Just… just stay awake, okay</em>?"</p><p>Damian doesn't have the energy to even accidentally nod. So instead, he hums, and listens as Richard slowly goes back into his Teen.Titams story, stopping and telling Damian to tap the phones mic every so often to prove he's still awake.</p><p>Damian does for as long as he can. He forces his eyes open, he shifts, he pinches his arms. He even imagines the voices of each character in Richard's stories. Yet, somehow, against his will, he keeps finding himself forcing his eyes open without even realizing that he's let them close in the first place. </p><p>It's getting very difficult to breathe. So much so that through the haze of his muddled, barely able to focus mind, he notices that Richard pauses every time Damian accidentally lets out a traitorous gasp for air. </p><p>It's beginning to smell badly down here too. It's not helping the headache or the slowly growing nausea. He doesn't know if it's the body besides him... or if it's his mind playing tricks on him. </p><p>He's been trapped in coffins before. Yet none of them have actually been buried. </p><p>Or well, the one time he<em> was </em> in a buried coffin he was actually dead. </p><p>But, regardless of that, Damian can say that this is the most terrifying thing he's been through in a long time. Especially because he can feel his own consciousness fading. He can feel the strength in his fingers reducing. He can<em> feel </em> his chest beginning to rival the pain at the back of his head. </p><p>How much longer before he's breathing in more carbon-monoxide than oxygen? How much longer until he's suffocating on his own recycled air?</p><p>His phone falls from his cheek and he stares blankly at the lid above him. For a second,.he imagines dying down here. He imagines being found too late. He imagines the grave being dug up to find two corpses. The lid being inspected to find not a single scratch from desperate fingernails. </p><p>The children at his school told him about a famous ghost and how she died like this. Damian knows Bloody Mary is simply superstition and has no proof of reality, but in these dark, trapped moments he can definitely relate to her fear. Her panic. What she must have felt in her last moments. The anger and terror that kept her soul tethered to the earth. </p><p>He can vaguely hear his name being shouted. But he can't breathe. His head hurts. His eyes really want to close. </p><p>He gasps, and gasps, and doesn't bother to try and find his dropped phone as Richard's voice dips into a strange, disconnected kind of terror. If Timothy and Cassandra haven't arrived by now, then surely they must not be coming at all. </p><p>"I'm- I'm sorry-" he wheezes.</p><p>He can see black spots in his vision, even in the darkness of the coffin. </p><p>It soon becomes too hard to listen to Richard scream for him. Too difficult to keep his eyes open. Too taxing to keep his brain thinking. Too demanding to stay awake. </p><p>He slips into unconsciousness, and the pain slips too. </p><p>-o-o-o-o-</p><p>He awakens to numbness, trapped in heavy blankets and tied down with wires and sensors. There's something very heavy tied around his face like a muzzle. For a horrifying second, that's what he thinks it is. Panicked, he attempts to grab at what's on his face, but his hands stay weighed down—in both weakness and… and something wrapping around his wrists.</p><p>His eyes creek open, and he finds himself squinting and wincing away even in what's clearly dim, soft lighting. He blinks a few tears from his face and looks down at where his hands should be.</p><p>Both of them are trapped in a bigger hand. A familiar hand. One Damian could trace the calluses of. </p><p>Richard is beside his bed… a <em>hospital </em> bed, his head laying on the mattress near Damian's chest and his arm over Damian's stomach to hold both of his hands. Richard snores softly, and Damian realizes that he must be asleep. </p><p>Instead of waking Richard up right away, he takes stock of his current situation. Besides what he's already found, he can say confidently now that what's on his face isn't a muzzle, but a mask, working hard to resupply his organs with the pure oxygen they need. </p><p>Richard isn't the only person in the room as well… father is here. As well as Timothy. However, Timothy is curled up by the room's window, breathing deeply. Father sits besides him, his head leaning back and his mouth open in silent snores. </p><p>It's so… calm. Dare Damian think domestic?</p><p>He wonders where Cassandra and Duke are. He even wonders if Jason… but he doesn't linger on it. </p><p>Perhaps not all of them cared to see him continue to live. </p><p>Which is fine. Damian's never expected them to like him. </p><p>It's fine...</p><p>And… and he's crying. He desperately wants to stop crying right this second and take the pressure of the oxygen mask away from his face. But all he can do is twitch and jerk, try to shift in the impossible weight these blankets hold over him. </p><p>Somehow though, in his struggling, he wakes Richard. Then, before he knows it, he's being tugged off from the too fluffy pillows of which he lays. His head spins from the movement, and he realizes there's tight bandages wrapped around the entirety of his skull. However, within a second he finds himself trapped in Richard's embrace. </p><p>No… not trapped. Held. Protected. </p><p>He clutches to Richard before he can even think to do anything else. He vaguely hears Timothy and father wake up and Timothy murmur something about letting the others know that Damian is now awake... saying something about a food court. </p><p>They're all here. Father is here, standing off to the side with eyes so shockingly vulnerable that Damian knows he'll wonder if he’s really seen it later. The others are here, having waited for him to wake up. Richard is here, holding Damian so tightly that it causes a whole new tightness to his chest that's so much more comforting than when he couldn't breathe. </p><p>Damian wads the back of Richard's shirt in his hands.</p><p>Just this once, Damian allows himself to be held. Be worried over. Be a child. </p><p>Just this once, Damian let's himself cry openly and unashamed.</p><p>He's okay. He's safe now. </p><p>A heavy hand belonging to his father finally lands on his shoulder and Damian melts into the touches. </p><p>And he allows himself to be loved. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i heard a rumor that if you comment on fics, such as this one actually, then youll make an author really happy. ikr? absolutely crazy. </p><p>thanks for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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